


Unconsidered Plans

by Gedry



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Friendship/Love, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28320285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gedry/pseuds/Gedry
Summary: for the Gotham Secret Santa 2020.I was assigned Arcanemoody.I hope you like this.  These are kind of snippets from a possible larger story if you would like to see more.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Unconsidered Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arcanemoody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanemoody/gifts).



> for the Gotham Secret Santa 2020.
> 
> I was assigned Arcanemoody. 
> 
> I hope you like this. These are kind of snippets from a possible larger story if you would like to see more.

Secret Santa 2020

Going into lockdown wasn’t something Oswald ever seriously considered doing again. In fact, he had plans and back up plans and back up, back up plans to avoid the scenario of being incarcerated in any way, shape, or form ever again. He slept at night with some sense of security knowing this, at least, was taken care of as much as possible given his career path. 

He had NOT included in his calculations the possibility of a pandemic. 

Hurricane? Yes, they lived on the water.

Earthquake? Included as an afterthought just in case.

Political plot to systematically isolate and then destroy the whole city? It’s Gotham. Wouldn’t be the first time. Was placed on the list directly after all bat related possibilities were accounted for. 

Oswald had to admit, no matter how hard one might try, there’s always one missed possibility. 

It was supposed to be temporary, two weeks, a month at best.

When Ed offered to stay with him, giving them more time to plan their long debated and quickly upcoming next heist, it seemed like an intelligent way to pass the time and continue forward progress. 

But then two weeks passed, and then two months. 

By July Ed was a seemingly permanent fixture not only in Oswald’s home, but once again in his life. It was troublesome, something that Oswald had historically been actively working to avoid. 

Having Ed too close meant having his own feelings too close to the surface. 

Oswald had worked for fifteen years to suffocate the intense aching of his heart and soul. He had toiled for a decade to build and maintain, no matter what the circumstances, the facade of friendly, even brotherly affection he allowed himself to show Riddler only on occasion. 

Those boundaries must never be crossed again. 

Your heart can only be broken into so many pieces so many times before bits of it become dust.

And yet….Ed. 

Oswald is beginning to think he missed something about Ed. Something vital, something tender, something that, perhaps, means Oswald was not wrong in giving his heart away to this wondrous conundrum of a man so many years ago. 

It’s foolish to even consider such a thing, now, decades later, but Oswald is beginning to think that Edward Nygma, The Riddler himself, may, in fact, be in love with him too. 

Just slower to the finish line than Oswald was. 

Much slower, and much more subtle.

Used to Ed’s grand theatrics, Oswald has always assumed Ed would be much like himself in the way he expressed desire, affection, connection, and intimacy. That there would be, God help him, wine, and fine dinners, trips abroad and lavish expenditures. Ed did always love to make scene. 

None of those things are happening at all. 

Instead, Ed fills the house with fresh flowers, pointedly ignoring Oswald’s strange looks. But not ignoring the way a certain bouquet made Oswald have the worst case of hay fever he had ever experienced. 

Oswald thought he had COVID. 

There was no verbal communication between them, but the flowers from that day disappeared as though they had never really existed, the softest tissues, cold medication, a hot water bottle, and an extra blanket were found in his bedroom that night when Oswald retired. 

The only person who could have done those tasks was Ed, but when Oswald thanked him the next morning, the tall man looked at him as if he were insane. 

Frankly, Oswald was used to that look. 

It’s a bit insulting when a man who argues with himself out loud, frequently, thinks you are the crazy one. But Oswald has long since gotten used to Ed’s duality. 

Honestly, he thinks Riddler likes him better sometimes. 

*****

The robe was another clue, albeit a confusing one. 

Oswald will never admit to nights of pain filled sobbing while holding his own evening robe to his face. Hoping for the tiniest remnant of Ed’s scent to still be in the cloth right after their parting. 

But he did it. Repeatedly, in fact, tell no one. 

This many years later, returning home from Blackgate and finding it tucked away in storage was a pleasant surprise. Bless Olga for her attention to every detail. 

It’s still a favorite of his, and many a night he can be found lounging with it’s comfort still wrapped around his person. The once bitter memories associated with it having faded into the background of fondness that Oswald holds for the garment itself.

He had thought his adoration of this remnant of a past divergence in their shared possible futures was his alone. 

But one night, head feeling heavy from the pain in his leg and a general over all aching in his aging bones, Oswald finds himself wandering the house long after he is usually sleeping. Seeking the relief of a warm fire, perhaps some tea he wanders into the parlor only to stumble to a stop at the site that greets him.

Oswald is a somewhat messy roommate. Pain and excitement cause him to, on occasion, abandon his wares at a moments notice to dive into another, more exicint distraction or in avoidance of discomfort. 

Tonight had been one of the latter, he had hauled himself off to bed earlier leaving behind his robe on the sofa. It had only occurred to him hours later as he was tossing and turning in search of sleep. He had planned to pick it up at the end of his wanderings.

Ed has picked it up instead. 

Ed, standing in front of the fire with his eyes closed, looking almost reverent as he presses his nose into the collar of Oswald’s robe. 

Oswald knows that look, and has worn it on his own face many years ago. Ed looks enraptured as he draws in one long breath after another. Oswald breathing in time for no other reason than being entranced at the sight before him. 

He shifts his weight and the boards under his feet give an audible protest. 

Ed’s eyes snap open and dart to where Oswald is standing. Oswald braces himself for a terrible comment, or being shoved to the side as Ed flees. But Ed only smiles, cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink in the firelight. Oswald nods, feeling the blush bloom to life on his own cheeks as he ducks out of the room to limp away. 

*****

Oswald huffs at his reflection. 

Though the front he puts on for other people is self assured, Oswald has always struggled with himself. 

As a child he was considered too frail. 

As a youth, too feminine.

Then his leg, his profound limp, a hobble really. 

With age came weight. 

And shame. 

And guilt for not doing more about his insecurities. 

Today, it’s none of these things causing Oswald upset...and all of these things. 

Today, Oswald feels….old. 

He lets his eyes slide close in order to hold back the tears that threaten to come with his melancholy. For the love of Gotham, it’s taken him way too long to get his eyeliner on today, Ed is waiting and must be on the verge of a full out fit with how late he is. The last thing he needs is to cry and have to start his make up again. 

Waterproof his ass. 

The hand that suddenly touches and then squeezes his shoulder is barely enough to keep him seated as Oswald lets out a shriek loud enough to wake his long dead mother. 

“Ed!” 

He feels more than hears Ed chuckle at his tone. “I’m sorry, Oswald, I didn't mean to startle you. You were just very behind today and I thought I should check on you.”

Oswald tosses his brush onto the dressing table and sighs. “You’re right, Old Friend. I am very behind. I seem to be having a difficult time gathering myself today. Forgive me.”

A look of concern passes over Ed’s face before he rounds the bench Oswald is sitting on and gently nudges Oswald over to give him some room. “Anything I can help with?” The taller man asks as their eyes meet in the mirror. 

Oswald doesn't consciously start talking. But he comes to the horrible realization that in response to Ed’s query he has fallen into a self depreciating tirade. “I’m fat, I’m old, I ache all the time. I’ve never fit in, I’ve never measured up to what I was supposed to be. I was too thin and now I’m too fat, I was frail and then feminine and now I’m an aging, mascara wearing, shut in who will be alone for the rest of my life. Who the hell am I putting this makeup on for Ed? We aren’t even going anywhere.” 

He rolls his eyes at his own idiocy, wipes at his face and manages to smear whatever is left of his eye shadow. “I give up today,” Oswald huffs. “I’m going back to bed.”

Ed touches his chin with two trembling fingers and brings his face up until it’s tilted back into the light. Almost as if in a trance, Oswald’s eyes slide shut as Ed reaches for the brush Oswald had been using for his eye shadow. He feels the delicate swipe of the bristles across his eyes. Feels Ed’s breath on his face, smelling of mint and tea. 

“Beautiful,” Ed whispers into the silence surrounding them. “As always.” 

Oswald trembles all all over, afraid to open his eyes, to move,to break the moment silently weaving between them. 

Ed’s thumb traces over Oswald’s lower lip with reverence. 

Oswald exhales.


End file.
